Fault (Book 1 of the Vikings Series)

Chapter 9

I wake up who knows how long later. My stomach seems less appalled by the movement and I'm able to stand up. This small victory is short lived when a large bang sends me crashing back to the ground. I pause a few seconds, just long enough to let out a pathetic moan before pushing myself back to my feet. There's no more time for sympathy. If I was going to find out anything about Antrapar, it was now or never. I couldn't risk getting caught now, not when Östen would probably just tell my father and I would be sent home. Still though, starving in the brig wasn't an option. As more time passes, I realize the truth in that saying coming true. I don't leave my prison out of fear that I'd be recognized in a second but know, deep down, it's inevitable.
Sleeping and studying the map no longer distract me from the pain in my stomach. My throat has long since become scratchy and it's been far too long since I've breathed fresh air. The only light in the dank cell comes from a small circular window on one wall. The sky glows a deep red as the sun casts it's last rays on the sea as it dips under the horizon. Other than that, it's just me and one annoying drip of sea water that falls from the deck into the same puddle every time. Let's hear it for Viking carpentry, am I right?
Finally, I make the decision that staying in my hiding spot is no longer an option. I need water, badly. I stand up and clutch the wall. My head spins for a moment before clearing. Slowly, I cross the room and put a hand on the latch. It falls weakly back to my side seconds later. I was going to get caught and everything was going to be ruined. Then again, staying in here and dying of dehydration wasn't an option. I do a quick sweep of the brig. Nothing but the crates of weapons. Knowing it's my only option, I pull the lid off. The contents, as I thought, are as follows; knives, swords, and two deadly looking axes. I pull the fabric out from between them and, to my surprise, find myself holding a long tunic. Quickly, I unclip my cloak and slide the fabric over my vest. I retie the sash around my waist and hide my cloak in the crate. Next, I take one of the short swords from the box and pull the blade from it's leather sheath. Using the flat of the blade, I almost see my reflection. My long blond braid is tangled but still lays limply over my shoulder with a small piece of twine to keep it in place. I take a deep breath and take it in one hand and the blade in the other.
"For Antrapar," I whisper as I slide the blade through my hair at shoulder length. I will find out what's so special about that place, even if this is just the first step of many. I don't let myself dwell on what I'd just done for more than a second. Hurriedly, I run my fingers through my hair and make sure it's extra tousled. To my delight, some of it falls over my eyes, adequately hiding my face. Now, I confidently head for the door and rush out into the hall. Even the fresh air of the corridor feels sweet to my lungs. No one is in the corridor and I don't waste any time rushing under the ladder into the supplies room. I practically dive onto one of the crates and find an assortment of dried carrots and beets. I eat only a few before realizing I'm too thirsty to swallow properly. I start coughing into my arm, trying not to make any more noise than I have to. After searching for a few moments, I see a large flask hung on the wall. I pull the cork from the top and drink greedily. The sweet Mead feels glorious on my tongue and I divulge myself back into the vegetables. Before I can react the door opens behind me and someone enters. I jump upright and stare down at the floor.
"Sorry, I didn't realize that this was a good hangout spot," a familiar voice exclaims. I glance up to face Briar.
"You really don't recognize me?" I ask.
Instantly, his eyes widen and he slaps a hand over her mouth. Briar slams the door closed behind him, much louder than I would have preferred.
"Elin," he gasps. "No, I didn't! You look... I don't know what to say."
Briar stammers her way through a series of unintelligible phrases.
"You just, what happened?" he finishes. I lean back against the crates and take another drink of Mead.
"I want to find out about Antrapar and can't risk them turning back to bring me home," I insist. Briar looks like he's about to protest but is stopped by the click of the door's latch.
Vern's head pops through the door. "Briar, what's taking you so-" he stops talking when he sees me.
"What are you doing in here? How many months do we need to be at sea for you to know better than stealing rations?" he asks angrily.
I freeze. The air feels like it's being sucked out of the room. The flask of liquid in my hand feels heavy. My hair swings gently in front of my eyes. One of the wooden floor boards creak, throwing me back into the reality of silence.
"Stealing rations? Come on, Vern. You act like we're on some quest," Briar laughs.
"We are," Vern replies. "Get out of here," he tells me. I place the flask down into the crate and squeeze past Briar. I'm about to pass through the opening when Vern catches my arm.
"Why haven't I seen you here before?"
Briar jumps in between us.
"This is Ashen. He was from Limerick."
Vern lets go of my arm.
"Nice of Singrid to let us know," he mutters. "Up on the mast. Watch the horizon. And Ashen, stay out of the supplies room."
I leave quickly and stumble up onto deck. The wind immediately blasts my face. Salty air bites my nostrils and I duck behind some boxes of rigging. I glance up into the mast. The red sail flicks in wind, catching drifts of air. It swings one way and I see a person up on a perch about thirty feet above.
"Up there?" I gasp aloud even though no one else is on deck to hear me. Even if they were, the wind howls away my words before they reach my own ears. I take a deep breath and fight my way against the gale to the mast. A row of small pegs run up the side of the wooden shaft. I wrap my hand around the first peg and use my feet to push myself up the the next. I discover quickly that this system wasn't made for someone my height. I'm forced to pull myself up before getting my feet onto the next peg. Finally, I push myself up onto the platform. The person who had been up here now turns to me. Welch's familiar face is barely recognizable in the darkness.
"What? Captain Vern doesn't trust me to keep watch all by myself?" he grumbles loudly, struggling to make his voice heard.
"This is his newest punishment," I reply.
"Makes sense. That's probably why I'm up here. What'd you do?" he yells. I decide I've had enough of the shouting and shrug my shoulders in response. We stare out over the ocean in the darkness. I'm not sure we're looking for anything in particular. Perhaps just something besides water. Either way, dawn comes sooner than I would've preferred and another man climbs up to the perch to relieve us. I follow Welch into the bottom of the ship where cots line the floor. Most of the men are already gone, working about the other parts of the ship. It amazes me that more than thirty men can keep busy on the ship. Randomly, I pick one of the cots that doesn't look like it's been touched in a long time and lay down. I take the rings from my pocket in the darkness and stuff them all under the mattress. I lay on top of them for a moment before realizing that I'm far too awake for sleep. Carefully, I pull one of the rings out and finger it. Vern's. I sigh and stuff it in the pocket of my vest.
The empty room welcomes sleep that I happily accept.

I wake up to shouting some time later. Even though the room is completely dark, save for a lone lantern hanging by the door, I guess that it's only been a few hours by the yawn that escapes my lips.
A groan echoes from the opposite side of the room.
"Can't they just shut up!?" Someone bellows.
I clear my throat and purposefully let my voice come out raspy. "What are they doing?"
"Who bloody cares!"
I roll my eyes and stand from the cot. I grab a snack from the supplies room and head to the deck where it seems everyone is assembled. They all shout and chant, looking on to some kind of spectacle. As I push into the crowd, I realize that they are all watching a duel in the center of the group. Sweat glistens on their shirtless backs as they wield their weapons. Both of them are well muscled but I can already tell the taller of the two has an advantage. This isn't the fake duels that Briar and I used to have when I was training, they were real. In fact, one of the fighters already has a long bloody slice running down his right arm. The chanting around me is almost overwhelming. Briar's back glistens with sweat as he launches himself towards Vern. To my complete delight, Vern chooses that moment to disarm Briar and hold the blade to his throat. Everyone around me cheers and I along with them. I've never been so happy to see anyone so publicly humiliated. Briar's face turns beet red. Vern chuckles softly. He scans the crowd and his eyes come to rest on me. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth.
"You," he grins. Someone pushes me forwards from behind. Vern raises his sword to the air.
"Havredal or Limerick?" he shouts.
"Havredal!" the men answer.
"Ashen, correct?" Vern asks. I nod my head. "It's just sparring. Don't be so scared," he chuckles.